


Snowdrop

by Bleu_Wolf



Series: MGL [3]
Category: Mobile Legends: Bang Bang (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Illnesses, Male Friendship, Spring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:33:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23279425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bleu_Wolf/pseuds/Bleu_Wolf
Summary: There was no joy in the Paxley house. He was the runt of the pack - the black sheep. The winter was cold. Gusion sat by the window, looking at the snow falling from the sky. It was cold, and his chest hurts. He can't breathe but all he could do is wait and hope for spring to come.Because after every winter, the snowdrops bloom.
Relationships: Claude & Gusion
Series: MGL [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1666663
Kudos: 11





	Snowdrop

The Paxley had a particular eye in having a beautiful garden. When Claude first arrived, he could not look away from the sea of purple hydrangeas and snapdragons that lead the stone pathways in the garden. Morning glories crawled along the walls to the second floor. Red rose bushes lined along the luxuriously designed gazebo. A white piano stood in the centre of the gazebo with sofas facing the said instrument. 

A soft tune played in the garden when Claude and his father walked to the back. 8-year-old Gusion Paxley, the youngest in the household, pressed loosely on the keys and jumped at the sharp slap of the riding crop. A man in his 40s, Faris Paxley, looked up to the crunching footsteps of a father and son coming to the gazebo. The stern face - tensed brows and upturned tight lips, never fades even when Claude’s father gave the family a greeting smile. 

“Mr. Paxley,” Claude’s father raised a hand. Faris stared at the outstretched hand with blank eyes. The gardener dropped it, pursing his lips. He cleared his throat and straightened his slouching posture, ignoring the small flame burning inside. “I heard that the new seed packets arrived.”

Faris lifted his head, the riding crop now behind his back, as he walked around the large instrument. The expensive, polished loafers made loud thud on the wooden floor. The 10-year-old Claude hid himself behind his father’s legs, clutched tight on the old man’s pants. Gusion watched the people at the gazebo, hands continued to play a different, much faster tune on the piano. 

Claude’s father and Faris walked away with the Paxley ushering the gardener to a large lush bush of purple flowers. Claude watched the men disappear behind a beech before turning to the child who had been staring at him.

The puffy haired child gave a smile with three missing teeth. “Hi, Goose!”

Gusion gave a small pout as Claude climbed the small steps to the piano. Nature took over to play their own song from the gentle breeze of the wind and tweeting of nightingale high in the trees. The calming silence ruined by a sharp cough from a child by the piano. Gusion’s shoulders jerked, coughing as Claude sat on the bench. 

“Hey, Goose,” Claude inched closer to the boy. “Dad got me a pet hamster today.” 

“Hamster?” Gusion questioned in a small, raspy voice. Claude gave a bitter smile to shrug off the uneasiness inside. 

“I called him Potato,” Claude gave his signature toothy grin. “He’s small and brown, like the potatoes Dad always used for dinner.”

Gusion frowned. “You guys still eat jacket potatoes? Don’t you ever get tired of eating the same thing every day?”

The boy shrugged. “It’s the only thing we can buy and grow. Other stuff is just too exp-...eth..”   
  
“Expensive?”

Claude pouted, head bowed and nodded. Despite being older than the two, Claude still had trouble with literacy compared to Gusion. The Paxley is the one to correct or help Claude finish his sentence when the boy stumbled in his own words. It was one of the little things that brought the two children close since the day they first met. 

Gusion pulled Claude inside the house, to his bedroom. The hallways were empty as always, not a surprise. Gusion’s brothers were mostly in college or travelling out of the country. Claude hardly saw any of them when he came here with his father. He once met Henry, the oldest of the Paxley brothers, and he alone gave the impression that the brothers were Faris’ clone - unfriendly and snobbish. 

“Did you finish the book I gave you?” 

Claude looked up from a Solar System model on Gusion’s desk. The Paxley child sat on the bed with a worn out plush elephant in his lap. “Almost,” Claude walked close to stand beside the bed. “Dad helped me a lot. I can write more than two words in a sentence.”

“That’s a good improvement,” Gusion smiled weakly. Claude flinched when Gusion did another sharp small cough before clearing his throat in recovery.The child gave him a smile then climbed off the bed to run for his chest. 

The lid gave a short creak as he opened the chest, rummaging inside. He pulled out a white book with soft green grass-like design at the bottom. Claude stretched out his neck behind Gusion’s back to see the book. There was a pink pressed flower in the opened page. 

“My nanny used to make these with me,” Gusion rasped as he walked back to the bed. Claude gently took the dried flower from the child’s hand. The petals felt like it will crumble to dust anytime soon. “She said, that no matter the pressure, the flower still has some of its beauty.”

Claude tilted his head. Gusion scoffed. “I think it’s silly. I mean, look at it. It’s pretty but it's also crumbling,” A few pieces of the dried flower fluttered to the bed sheet. 

Gusion sighed before forcing a smile to hide the tear filled eyes. “So, what you wanna play today? Hide-and-seek? Charades?”

“I think you should rest.”

The Paxley scrunched up his brows. “What?”

Claude swallowed the lump in his throat. Looking away, he dared not to see the anger and disappointment in Gusion’s eyes. “You’re not well. You’ve never been.”

“Claude,” Gusion climbed to sit beside the gardener’s son. He held their hands together and squeezed tight. “‘I’ll continue to live. It’s okay. Mama and Papa always bring me to the doctors. They make me feel better, Claude.”

The Paxley snuggled close under his friend’s arms. “It’s okay. I’m okay.” 

_ You’re not okay. You never were… _

*******

“Go to your room and rest,” Faris commanded, marching his way back to the house. A butler placed Gusion on his feet with the child stumbling before he regained his balance. Two maids brought the youngest Paxley to his bedroom. 

Cold winter air forced a sharp cough from the child and a maid quickly wrapped her scarf around his body despite the boy already in a large bundle of thick clothing. The maids put the child down on his bed before getting the room ready. One made sure the fire still crackled in its place while the other brought in a tray of snacks and medicine. 

“I don’t want medicine,” Gusion pouted, hoping he did not need to take those pills. The maid gave him a reassuring smile. 

“Young master, it’ll help you with your illness,” She put the tray on the bedside table, pouring a cup of warm herbal tea. “These medicines will make you strong again.”

Gusion shook his head. “I’m not strong, I never was,” He sniffled. “My chest always hurts and I can’t breathe.” 

The maids said nothing. Another year passed and Gusion’s illness still remained. Surgeries after surgeries showed no improvement. Faris decided to put a stop on that method seeing that it was a waste of money. Now, Gusion is relying mostly on pills and an inhaler. He was not allowed to play, in fear of making his illness worse. So he spent his time indoors which was not something that Faris was happy with. 

Gusion looked outside. The snow is slowly melting away. Another spring to greet him. Gusion jumped off his bed, feet shuffling to the space below his window and climbed to sit on it. He looked at the garden, seeing only a few of the snow piles all over the ground. He saw the purple flowers in the green bushes and water dripping from the tree branches. 

However, one patch made the Paxley frown. He thought it was just another snow pile but upon proper inspection, it was not. Gusion quickly dashed out of the bedroom, mindful not to put too much pressure on his lungs. The boy got to the back garden, mist puffing out from his lips. 

The white patch he saw from his window, was a patch of flowers. The flower itself shaped like a drooping white bell and dew littered on their dark green leaves.  Gusion got down to his knees, touching the flowers with delicate hands. He had never seen such plants before. 

“Your friend asked those planted,” A deep voice spoke from behind. Gusion turned to see his father walking towards him. An envelope was in his hand. “He begged me to have a flower patch filled with snowdrops.”

“Snowdrops?”

Faris passed the letter to the child. Gusion looked down at the paper before opening it. At first he frowned at the squiggly handwriting until he finally read the name of the writer at the end. 

_ Dad said snowdrops are magical flowers because they bloom after winter. He said they are flower of hope, because they bloom after going through harsh days. I hope you’ll do okay. Sorry I can’t be with you. Dad found me a school in the village. I’ll learn harder so I can write more letters to my best buddy.  _

_ From Claude.  _

  
  



End file.
